


Confluence

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [176]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6337069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>confluence: noun: kän-ˌflü-ən(t)s, kən-: a place where two rivers or streams join to become one; a situation in which two things come together or happen at the same time</p><p>late Middle English: from late Latin confluentia, from Latin confluere ‘flow together’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confluence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bonfoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonfoi/gifts).



> thinking of you, sweetie.

"It was simply a confluence of events, John..."

"Uh-hmmm..."

"It was meant to be a surprise, but you got home early...you, you're never home early on Wednesdays..."

"Uh-huh...."

"I was trying to make you dinner, and then Lestrade texted me about a case...and....I was in my Mind Palace...you know how I can get..."

"Yes, love, I know...and you forgot about the pot of water on the stove..." John sighed.

"And you walked in to the kitchen as the top blew off the pot. I, uhm...I'm so, so, so very sorry...I was making a special dinner..."

"I'm afraid to ask why...but...why?" John was holding a large ice pack to his forehead. Frankly, he was amazed they had anything that resembled an ice pack in the flat. He was expecting Sherlock to hand him one of last year's forgotten experiments, but they actually had an official first aid ice pack in the freezer. Maybe, though, he shouldn't be surprised with all the bumps, bruises, sprains and concussions they had suffered through the last two years.

"Why, Sherlock?" He sighed again and opened his eyes, expecting...what, he wasn't quite sure. 

Sherlock was kneeling by the couch, looking suitably contrite, an apron over his aubergine shirt, curls artfully composed, flour on his nose...holding a jewelry box. John wasn't quite sure what the flour was from...but he looked adorable. John grinned in spite of the throbbing headache that was taking over his ability to construct sentences, and groaned.

"Oh, John. This was not the way it was supposed to go...I had a whole evening planned, candlelight...wine...maybe I should wait for more auspicious circumstances?"

"No, it's fine, love. You know how often we meet up with auspicious circumstances. Go ahead..."

Sherlock nodded, rubbed his nose and closed his eyes. "John Hamish Watson..."

"Seriously?"

"...will you please do me the honour..."

"Oh fer chrissakes..." John closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"...of marrying me?"

John opened his eyes and saw that Sherlock had opened the box to reveal a beautiful watch, much like the one that had been lost to the Thames two months ago.

"How?"

"John?"

"Yes, of course, you idiot. But you may have to remind me that we are engaged tomorrow morning, because I really need a nap, and my head really fucking hurts..."

"Come on, I'll tuck you in."

"I do love you, sweetness."

"I know."

"Stay away from the stove, yeah?"

"I promise, won't do it again."

"Good."

Sherlock kissed John on the lips gently, (the one place that didn't currently hurt like hell) and carefully helped him to bed. "I'll order Chinese when you wake up, yeah?"

"Ta, sounds lovely." His head had barely hit the pillow when Sherlock could tell he was asleep.

Sherlock covered John with the duvet, then laid down next to him, draping his arm lightly around his waist, entangling their fingers together.

"I love you, too."


End file.
